


I Come to You In Pieces

by Amaria_Anna_D



Series: Matt and Foggy's Infinite Playlist [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9983018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaria_Anna_D/pseuds/Amaria_Anna_D
Summary: Matt reluctantly goes to Foggy's place after being injured and is surprised by how wonderful it can be to let someone care for you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this is another song inspired fic for the "Playlist" series. It can be read as following "Stand Inside Your Love" or on its own. If you have any suggestions of songs for the playlist or prompts, you can send them to me via my tumblr at handoftheassassin.tumblr.com

I Come to You In Pieces

“ _So you can make me whole...”_

“Pieces” by Red

 

Matt’s been worse off—a lot worse off, if he’s honest with himself—but honesty isn’t exactly his strong suit these days. At least, the ringing in his ears and dizziness have worn off. Things had been a lot scarier for a few minutes than he’d probably ever admit out loud. As he vaults across the narrow gap between two half-condemned tenements, he feels like the earth is tilting beneath his boots. The force of the explosion and the bit of shrapnel that cut into his side have left him unsteady still. He kneels down on the rooftop and takes a moment to inspect the wound. His first assessment had been mostly right about it; he’s had worse. It is about two inches long and not terribly deep. The bleeding isn’t extreme, but blood loss, a head injury, and his senses being a bit off combined was more than he should probably chance.

His hand reaches into the small compartment he kept his burner phone in only to find that it had enough cracks through the screen and body of it to make it all but useless. His fingers fumble with the buttons trying to get the damn thing to turn on for a moment before acknowledging that the phone is toast. Letting out a groan, he stands back up and picks his destination.

Claire’s new place in Harlem is too far, and there is no telling if her mother would be at home—or worse Luke. He has the supplies to patch himself up in his apartment but even that is a stretch in his current state. That left the one place he _never_ wanted to go when he was hurt: Foggy’s. Glumly, he turns toward his friend (Can he call him his boyfriend now? Have they decided that yet?) and practices excuses in his head for showing up bleeding in the pre-dawn hours of the morning.

He makes it to Foggy’s apartment blessedly quick and squats on the fire escape as he raps on the window lightly. Inside, he can hear Foggy snoring—something that brings back endless memories from college and makes him smile—and he adds a little more force the second time. There is a sharp snorting sound from Foggy’s bed and then a half asleep murmur before he sits up straight, shaking the sleep from his head. “Christ,” the lawyer swears as he kicks away the blankets and heads for his window.

Matt slides in easily the second the window opens and tries to keep his hand over the wound to prevent any blood from staining. “Sorry for waking you,” he murmurs softly.

“Christ,” Foggy repeats for good measure, running his hand through his hair. “You look half dead, and… Holy shit, you’re bleeding! Should I call Claire?”

Waving away his boyfriend’s (Yes, he decides he can use that word.) suggestion, the vigilante hobbles forward a bit to allow Foggy to close the window. “I just need a place to rest for a bit before I head home. I can stitch it up myself. I promise you, it probably looks worse than it actually is.”

“C’mon,” Foggy urges, sounding resigned to Matt’s stubbornness, “I’ve got a box of supplies under my sink. I asked Claire what I should buy...you know, just in case.”

Matt can’t help the shame that blossoms in his gut. Foggy shouldn’t have to worry about this shit. His messes shouldn’t spill over into Foggy’s life. He shouldn’t have come. Hell, he probably shouldn’t have even let Foggy inside the week before when he showed up with cheap Thai food. He certainly shouldn’t have told Foggy that he loved him or kissed him. Matt shouldn’t have let any of it happen, but he had. Now, he was sitting on Foggy’s toilet bleeding while he got out a stockpile of medical supplies no lawyer should ever need.

“Hey!” Foggy snaps.

“What?” Matt asks perplexed.

“I know that look of yours. That’s the guilty face you make about five seconds before you decide to do something stupid.” Foggy slams the box down on the counter top. “I’m sure you’ve already done enough stupid shit tonight anyway. So how did that happen anyway? Knife?”

With a heavy sigh, Matt shakes his head. “It was an explosion—a small one,” he amends quickly. “The guy I was going after was an arsonist. I wasn’t expecting that small explosives were his next act or that he would be willing to blow us both up until I was already inside. I was able to get clear of most of it, but a piece of something sliced the side of my suit. The arsonist was in the back of an ambulance when I left. I think he’ll live.”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Foggy grumbles. “Do you think I’ll ever get used to hearing the stories about how you almost died?”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Matt says softly.

“Well, you won’t stop doing what you’re doing, and I’m not going anywhere so...” His words trailed off, and neither of them need to hear the rest of the sentence. Foggy snorts in frustration. “And I don’t even know what most of this shit is! Let alone how to help you.”

Matt tugs off his gloves and reaches into the box gingerly. It doesn’t take long for him to find exactly what he needed and lays it out on the counter. He can feel Foggy watching him intently. “I’ve got this.”

“Mind if I go in the other room for this part?” Foggy asks sheepishly. “I watched Claire stitching you back together once. I’m not exactly looking forward to seeing it again.”

“Sure,” Matt agrees, once again feeling the guilt eating at him.

“I’ll go grab something for you to sleep in,” Foggy announces.

Matt stills halfway through peeling off the suit. “You don’t have to. I can leave after this.”

“Like hell you will! You’re bloody and probably hurt worse than you are willing to admit. I’m not letting you leave. I know you could probably—ok, you could definitely kick my ass if I tried to keep you here, but I know you won’t. You’re staying here,” Foggy says flatly. “Deal with it, Murdock.”

The warm feeling that replaces the guilt he’d been feeling only moments earlier is so strong that he almost stands up and kisses Foggy. Instead, he just smiles. “Fine. I’ll stay. I just don’t want to be any more trouble than I already am.”

Foggy lets out a short laugh. “You are a walking disaster zone, Matt, but I love you anyway.”

“I love you, too.” The words feel strange rolling off of his tongue, but not in a bad way. Since he’d confessed how he felt, Matt had only said it one other time. He doesn't throw around the “L” word lightly, and it doesn’t escape him that the only other people he’d ever said it to were dead and gone. Still, he can't help the hopefulness he felt when he thinks of Foggy.

It doesn’t take long to stitch up his side. Though much shallower than the cuts from Nobu, Matt doesn't doubt that it would be another scar for his collection. By the time Foggy reappears in the doorway, Matt has stripped down to his boxers and rinsed most of the blood from his suit down the bathtub drain. Idly, he wonders if Foggy is grossed out by the myriad of marks that decorate his skin, but he doesn’t think he could bring himself to ask. Not yet. Maybe never.

“You probably already know exactly what I was doing in the kitchen, but I made some tea,” Foggy announces, holding out some sweats.

“I wasn’t paying much attention to what you were doing out there. I was trying not to make an even bigger mess of myself,” Matt admits with a half smile. He can now smell the green tea wafting from the other room. He pulls on the sweat pants he’d been offered and then freezes. “These aren’t yours.”

Foggy clears his throat nervously. “I bought some stuff a couple of days ago. Call me an optimist, but I was hoping you’d be spending some time here now...and not just when you’re hurt.”

Matt closes the distance between them until Foggy’s breath is dancing across his skin. Hesitant fingers reached out and brushed against Foggy’s cheek. “I’d like that too,” he murmurs before leaning in for a gentle kiss. Foggy’s lips taste like ranch Doritos and sleep, but it was so nice.

“Although, I’m good if you want to sleep naked here, too,” Foggy quips.

“Only if I’m not the only one naked.” Matt laughs and almost instantly winces as a wave of pain rolls through his side. “Maybe for tonight we should keep the clothes on though? Ripping out my stitches and bleeding on your sheets isn’t the way I want our first time to go.”

Foggy chuckles and places a quick kiss on Matt’s jaw. “Fair enough.”

They end up side by side on Foggy’s couch with only somewhat warm cups of green tea and Matt’s arm looped around Foggy’s shoulders. Foggy is telling him stories about all of the craziness that seems to be commonplace in his new practice. Jessica Jones, the woman who made headlines by taking out a guy could apparently mind control people, is a common sight in the office. Also, there is a homeless looking guy who stumbled in claiming to be the lost scion of the Rand Corporation. The whole time Matt is shaking his head at Foggy’s innate ability to get mixed up in things. At some point, Matt must have drifted off because Foggy is nudging him awake gently.

“Why don’t you head to bed?” he suggests.

“Will you come with me?” Matt asks.

“Yes.”

Matt’s smile widens. “Then yes, let’s go to bed.”

Matt let’s Foggy crawl in first and the gingerly stretches out beside him. They’re facing each other, and Foggy reaches out to begin tracing the lines of Matt’s collarbone and shoulder. It tickles, but it also stirs up other feelings a bit lower. Between Foggy’s scent surrounding him, the sound of his heart beat, and the touch, Matt is on the verge of forgetting that he was the one who insisted they wait. He snags Foggy’s hand as it begins to make a return journey and kisses his fingertips. Matt’s not quite sure what prompts Foggy’s sudden burst of laughter.

“It just occurred to me that I’m probably going to be the little spoon,” Foggy says still laughing.

Joining in, Matt scoots a little closer. “Do you want to be the little spoon?”

“I dunno,” Foggy answers honestly, sobering slightly. “I’ve always been with girls, and then it’s kind of a given, I think. What do you want?”

Matt thinks for a moment. The truth surprises him a little. “I wouldn’t mind being held for a while.”

He rolls onto his other side, ignoring the twinge of pain that comes with it. Any discomfort falls away the second Foggy’s soft chest and stomach press against his back and his arm snakes light around Matt’s waist. Matt suddenly finds that Foggy’s breath against the curve of his neck is a new kind of sweet torture, and almost unconsciously wiggles his ass in a little tighter onto Foggy’s hips. The whole experience of being held like this is so wonderful that he feels an unwanted prickling in his eyes. Peace washes over him, and he opens his mouth to comment on it but doesn’t quite get the words out.

“This feels right,” Foggy murmurs, kissing Matt’s shoulder lightly.

“It does,” Matt agrees through a tight throat.

“I love you, Matt. Get some sleep,” Foggy commands a little bolder than Matt’s used to.

“I will. And I love you, too,” Matt replies.

It takes mere seconds for Matt to fall into a deep sleep that has little to do with his bone deep exhaustion and everything to do with the man beside him. He’ll think deep on it all in the morning, but right at that moment Matt simply feels safe and loved for probably the first time in almost twenty years.

 


End file.
